Drake crouched in silence, taking his turn at eyeballing the street. It was no secret that various American agencies had people in almost every major city around the world and much more. The team had purposely chosen Manaus as a destination because it was the closest city to the Amazon where the CIA and even less publicized acronyms kept a presence. Of course being the most populous city of the rainforest helped. He was aware of the others talking quietly behind him, planning the rest of the op. His gaze saw every movement, every coming and going and logged it, as his mind contemplated all the ways his life was changing. First, and most importantly, Alicia had reached a crucial turning point in her own life. No matter how it looked and no matter how much Dahl ribbed him, he would be there to help her. The motto ‘so far, so good’ was an overused one, but when it applied to Alicia Myles and her steady progress it was the most apt. That led him to Mai. The Japanese woman was currently overseeing Grace’s recovery with help from her sister and Dai Hibiki. The best news was that Grace would almost certainly completely recover; the rather tricky news was that she didn’t need Mai by her side to do it.
Would Mai return?
Was anything left of their relationship?
Drake didn’t think so, but it wasn’t as though Mai and he had discussed anything before she left. Or since, for that matter. The fluid, molten flow of their lives saw to that. Peace would be nice, he often thought. But they were soldiers. Peace might also deal them a slow death.
His eyes flicked around the entrance to the bar. The saving grace tonight was that the temperature had dropped at least three degrees, not exactly good old Yorkshire weather but a relief nonetheless. He watched a man with a brown weathered face enter the bar and then stiffened as Yorgi walked out.
The Russian thief headed away at first, ensuring he hadn’t been pinned with a tail before doubling back.
“Any minute now,” he said. “They’re tired of him and want him to leave.”
Hayden came forward. “Okay guys, be ready.”
Yorgi pushed in next to Drake. “This is not a nice man. How far do we go with him?”
The Yorkshireman didn’t move. “As far as we have to, Yorgi. But we’re not judge, jury and executioner. Remember the old saying — cut off one head and another three shall take its place? Something like that.”
“Is that a Yorkshire saying?”
“No. I think it was from Jason and the Argonauts.”
They watched as the bar’s door swung open once again and their target staggered out. Already weaving, he belched loudly, smoothed his black matted hair and then swung wildly down the middle of the street. When a car did come toward him he shouted at it loudly until it moved aside. Hayden split the team up to track his every step. They had already reccied up and down the street for the perfect abduction spot and it was now only twenty yards ahead.
Hayden keyed her throat mic. “Ready?”
“Ready.” Affirmatives came back.
Drake, Lauren and Smyth pulled back, their jobs to ensure nobody saw the seizure. The only people in the street were two youths trying to gain entry to the bar and a couple now occupying their old alley, closely wrapped up in each other and paying no attention to the rest of the world. Windows lined the street and couldn’t be properly verified, but everything Drake could see and control was acceptable.
“It’s a go.”
Behind them, Dahl rapidly closed the gap between himself and Almeida, Alicia a step behind. As a convenient alley came up the Swede pounced, dragging the Brazilian out of sight and clamping a huge arm across his windpipe. Alicia backed him up and then, seconds later, popped her head back out of the alley.
“All good. We have a homeless male down here but looks like he’s asleep. Target is ours.”
Hayden keyed her mic. “Mano. Bring the car.”
Forty minutes later the team stood facing Almeida who was tied to a chair in the middle of an empty warehouse, head hanging down toward his own lap. Alicia brought over a bottle of water.
“Ready?”
Hayden grunted. “Do it.”
Alicia emptied the contents of the bottle over their captive’s head, then stood back as he revived with a splutter and a nasty curse. Alicia decided that was out of line and slapped him across the face with the empty plastic bottle.
“Language.”
Almeida shook his head, droplets flying. “What have you done? Don’t you know who I am?”
Drake crouched down so that they were at eye-level. “We know who you are. We know what you do. Now, if you tell us what we need to know, we’re willing to let you keep doing it.” He didn’t add, until the bazaar is over, then we’re gonna make sure your degraded ass gets its just desserts in the worst Brazilian prison this side of Hell.
Almeida laughed, as they had known he would. “Fuck off, American. You can’t intimidate me.”
Drake blinked hard as Dahl laughed. “What did you call me?”
Kinimaka moved into the man’s eyesight. “If you think he’s American then you’re gonna struggle with me, brah. Now listen. We know you helped establish a huge arms bazaar somewhere in the rainforest. We know you were paid to look the other way whilst they shipped men and goods in. We know it’s been underway for many months now. Don’t look away—” Kinimaka reached out to hold the man’s face in place. “All we’re asking is for a location. An area. And a list of attendees.”
The man spat on the floor. “How would I even know that? You think they would tell me that? Fucking idiot.”
Kinimaka stared to squeeze. “You are a parasite, Almeida. You hear things. You make sure you hear things. It’s how you survive. Your dirty little friends hear things. The game turns, the players going round and round. It has been months. I know that you have a list of attendees. You wouldn’t be the filthy, lazy, bloodsucking fuck we know you are if you didn’t.”
Almeida’s eyes bulged as his jaw was squeezed in an unbreakable grip. Drake could almost hear him wondering just how far the big Hawaiian would go. It was a little ironic that Kinimaka had stepped up to the interrogation, since he was probably the most laid-back person in the room.
Almeida clammed up, pretending not to be intimidated. Alicia then hefted a heavy bag of nails they had procured along with a claw hammer. The threat was obvious.
Almeida suffered in silence for a minute, then said, “I can’t. They would kill me. Not just that. They would crush, chop, obliterate me. They could do worse than you. Much worse.”
Hayden nodded. “That I can understand. Yes, they could because they are unconscionable psychopaths much like yourself. But how would they ever know?”
“I ain’t telling ya, bitch. An’ I ain’t telling this big fucking whopper neither.”
Kinimaka let go of the man’s face. “Then you die,” he said. “You die tonight. In that chair. With your hands tied behind your back and no hope. Are you ready to die?”
“Ah, fuck off with the flowery speech, man, and hand me one of those nails. If I stick it through my ears it might drown out your bleating.”
Kinimaka bowed his head. “I tried,” he said. “For you. I really did.”
Almeida stared. “What are you taking about?”
Dahl and Smyth stepped forward at the same time. “Me,” they said in unison, before glaring at each other. As Almeida stared, Drake watched Alicia step quietly up to the back of the chair, towel in hand. With one deft swoop she wrapped it around the shocked man’s face and held it tight. Dahl then stepped forward with another bottle of water and, without ceremony, upended its contents over the towel.